


Oral Fixation

by cecilkirk



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Blow Job, Handcuffs, M/M, brallon, compared to most of my stuff this is p tame, either way brendon sucks dallon off so, it's ambiguous who's dom and they battle for it, pain kink mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 15:01:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6381058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecilkirk/pseuds/cecilkirk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Brendon bets he can get Dallon off using only his mouth; and in which Dallon won't believe it until he sees it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oral Fixation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blobecks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blobecks/gifts).



Dallon re-entered their bedroom to find Brendon awake, but only just. Early morning light bled onto the bed, soaking a shirtless Brendon. Brendon watched with bleary, unfocused eyes as Dallon sets his coffee on the dresser beside the door frame.

“Morning, sunshine,” he said in a low voice. Brendon was quick to perk up, get up, and stand in front of him. Dallon watched Brendon’s eyes float down to his coffee. He didn’t hesitate to steal a sip. Brendon’s lack of a second thought made Dallon smile if to no one but himself.

Dallon leans forward and kisses Brendon, soft and slow and saccharine. He wraps one arm around Brendon’s waist, the other finding and smoothing down his bed hair. Brendon smiles against his lips, and his chest tightens.

“You’ve always been such a good kisser,” Dallon says, bringing his hand down to thumb Brendon’s lower lip. He can feel his heat bloom in his cheeks as the innocence of their morning begins to fade away.

“So I’ve been told,” Brendon says, leaning his head down to take in Dallon’s thumb, his lips becoming a tight, wet seal around the digit.

Brendon lightly tongues Dallon’s finger. Dallon clears his throat.

With a surprisingly loud pop, Brendon pulls back and grins slyly at Dallon’s ever-reddening cheeks. “I’ve also been told I’m good with my mouth in general.”

Dallon cocks his head slightly, quickly, offering a click of the tongue and pondering wink in the attempt to gain control of Brendon and himself. He hopes to god it works. “Not by me,” he says, voice pitching upward but solid, not indicating desire but rather playfulness, meant to draw desire out of Brendon.

“No,” Brendon says, taking a half step forward. “Not by you.” His eyes flicker over Dallon’s lips. Just as Dallon goes to kiss him, Brendon turns his head and leans sideway, grabbing the coffee again. Brendon stares at Dallon while he sips.

“Like to, though,” Dallon says. “Be the one to speak knowledgeably of your expertise.”

Brendon sets the mug back down, pulls his lip in between his teeth. “Yeah?” he asks, voice cut off by his busy mouth.

“Yeah. But…” Dallon shrugs, a corner of his mouth turning down. “Not sure if you can do it.”

For one moment, Brendon’s eyebrows shoot up in anything but mock surprise.

“Is that so,” Brendon mutters, voice low and pointed.

“Mm,” Dallon affirms, placing his palm on Brendon’s cheek, reveling in the way the patchy scruff on his chin feels against the sensitive skin of his hand. “Probably not worth a try.”

Brendon snaps his eyes up to Dallon’s, sharp and newly electric. “I beg to differ.”

Dallon feels warmth brewing in the pit of his stomach and lets his hand drop.

“Cuffs?” Brendon asks, voice higher, lighter. Dallon blinks, taken aback momentarily by how seriously Brendon is taking this. He really wants to prove himself, and who would Dallon be to stop him?

He takes the cuffs out of the top drawer of the dresser, watching the coffee crash against the inside of its mug briefly as he jimmies it open and shut. Dallon cuffs Brendon easily, slowly, delighting in how beautiful Brendon’s wrists look trapped by the black leather.

As Dallon stands in front of Brendon again, he sees that Brendon’s eyes are darker, but he stands taller, prouder, ready to show off his skills and abundantly eager to do so. Dallon licks his lips at the sight as reflex.

“You look nervous,” Brendon says, rolling his shoulders back and inching his face closer to Dallon’s. “You look dubious.”

Dallon licks Brendon’s mouth, tongue pushing just inside his mouth, just past his wet, promising lips. Brendon doesn’t move.

“Make me,” Dallon whispers.

Brendon does not hesitate to kiss Dallon’s neck, his collarbone, his shoulder, mouth travelling outward, and, teasingly, not downward. Dallon clears his throat indignantly, and Brendon pulls back, squinting at Dallon in irritation.

“I know what I’m doing,” Brendon says, and the whine in his voice reminds Dallon of a frustrated child, one who is exasperated for constantly being mocked for the quality of his abilities. Given the last few nights, Dallon does not find this to be out of place.

“Don’t have all morning,” he replies evenly, combing his fingers through Brendon’s hair. “Don’t waste my time.”

Even without bitterness in his voice, Brendon reacts to Dallon’s words with vitriol.

“Pull down your boxers,” Brendon says loudly. Dallon can hear the frustration at his voice, the embarrassment in being unable to do it himself, the growing need to prove himself.

“Excus--?”

“Dallon!” Brendon barks. He smirks back in response as he lazily shucks off his underwear, steps out of it, and kicks it away.

“You’re welcome,” he says neatly.

Brendon’s knees hit the floor so quickly, the noise makes Dallon cringe.

But Brendon seems not to notice, or at the very least not let it bother him. Dallon wonders briefly how Brendon is going to do this--he’s barely hard, if at all--but he learns quickly.

“Oh.”

Brendon licks Dallon’s length, up through his pubic hair and to his lower stomach, then down, down to work diligently on his slit, and then--maybe to reassert himself, to bitterly reaffirm Dallon that he knows what he’s doing--Brendon trails his wet, hot lips outward, nipping and biting at Dallon’s inner thighs. As his teeth move, Dallon finds himself spreading his legs reflexively, granting Brendon more access to the soft skin. When he feels Brendon smirk against his thigh, his head tips back and hits the wall.

“Careful,” Brendon says, breath hot and dancing along Dallon’s thigh, resurrecting goosebumps as his tongue trails along. Dallon huffs derisively--at Brendon’s comment, ostensibly, but more at himself for how easily he’s getting hard and how close he is to coming already.

And Brendon had barely paid any attention to his cock, just everything else around it. He really was a fucking tease. Dallon knew he would make him pay for it later. Maybe he would slap him around, or really make sure the bruises on his knees stay after today, or--

The thoughts die as Dallon hears his breath catch in his throat, something that hits his ears as a high-pitched “hyick.” Brendon had begun putting his mouth around Dallon’s cock, and fuck, it felt better than it should have, and it was all because Brendon had teased him so much before, purposefully making him weak.

That was cheating, Dallon decided. That was unfair.

Watching the way Brendon’s back arched forward, how his whole torso had to be used to suck Dallon off to make up for the movement his hand usual undertook, Dallon’s toes pressed down into the wood floor.

He decided Brendon truly needed to be punished for his deceitful ways.

Dallon gripped Brendon’s hair hard enough to catch him off guard and cry out. The noise vibrated around Dallon’s cock and sent warm tendrils shooting up his lower back and tightening his throat. He began to fuck Brendon’s face, progressively harder and faster as he watched Brendon’s wrists strain against the cuffs, desperate to free them and touch Dallon’s cock.

But he didn’t deserve that, Dallon thought. He needed to be punished.

Dallon came down Brendon’s throat, holding his breath so he could better hear how Brendon choked, coughed, threatening to sputter but eventually swallowing, all of it, neatly and perfectly. After a moment Dallon pulled his hips back, realizing Brendon wasn’t going to remove his mouth without Dallon telling him to.

Brendon sat down on his heels, sweat drenching his shirt in patches and making his bed hair stick to his face. Dallon pulled his boxers back on and crouched down to Brendon’s level, cupping his face and thumbing his red, wet, come-slick lower lip, letting Brendon’s hot and quick breath cover his finger.

“Guess you proved me wrong,” Dallon said. He lightly slapped Brendon’s cheek, playful and innocuous, loving how the look on Brendon’s face was both proud and humiliated, loving that he could complicate Brendon’s life so easily.

Dallon stood, looking down at Brendon.

“Cuffs aren’t coming off quite yet,” he says, watching Brendon’s eyes widen in shock. “Teasers don’t get off so easy.”

Dallon took his coffee with him as he left their bedroom. He could just barely hear Brendon groan in defeat and frustration.


End file.
